Chapter Text
Sonic's mind is blurry and blessedly empty for what feels like eternity. It is a foreign sensation, yet so familiar in the most uncanny way. Like a faraway dream just within reach but dancing away just when he catches it, slipping past his fingers like sand, not even Sonic's super speed can help him - not for matters of the mind.
It is a nice change of pace. Sonic has always enjoyed a good nap. He would go as far as to say he is the president of napping. Nothing beats a good rest on a sunny afternoon after a filling snack. Preferably chilli dogs, but Sonic is open-minded about street food. Sundaes are his to go to on hot summer days when even he does not feel like running.
Sonic has always been the guy to go with the flow, so much so that he often misses the finer details. He only notices those little social cues that are more obvious to others when they are impossible to look past. But even he feels something is off about this serenity clouding his thoughts. His head is filled with cotton, and his limbs with lead. His body is pressed into something soft yet frayed. Like a beloved blanket that has been kneaded into too many times as the stitches come apart.
Sonic is Iain on his side, into a position he recognises. Sleeping on his back has never been an option. He sleeps reclined all the time in a field or on a tree. But he would destroy his and Tails' furniture if he slept on his back. Once upon a time, one shredded blanket meant a cold winter, shivering and getting dangerously sick. They can get all the soft bedding in the world now. But the experience is deeply welded into his subconsciousness. Sonic may forget the bad days, but like scars, his body never will. They creep in the darkest moments, dragging him right back into the past when every day was a battle for survival.
That is why when Sonic feels something wrapped around his arm - he does not immediately raise his spines as his instincts tell him to. But he does tense, his nerves firing with electricity. Everything in his body screams to get up - run and never look back. An odd reaction, to say the least. But not one unwholly recognisable.
It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Sonic pushes back the old memories associated with it. He does not want to remember those days. Instead, he focuses on the now, hoping to find something familiar in his hazy mind. Sonic does not know why his recent memories will not come when he calls for them. He chalks it up to panic as he is not a stranger to the sensation.
Whatever is wrapped around his forearm is soft and feels like fur. Dry and slightly matted fur, but fur nonetheless. Sonic feels the grain and denseness of it and smiles when he realises who it belongs to. After all, there is only one fox he knows and that he allows to cuddle with him. He would never deny his little buddy such a simple comfort, even when he sweating bullets because of their insulated fur.
It is Tails - his sibling who he loves more than anyone in the world. The little kit he found bullied and bruised and held no light or love in their dull blue eyes. He saw a much younger version of himself, unloved and uncared for, reflected in those eyes. His mind screamed not to do it - for Sonic valued his freedom above everything else - he still adopted Tails. Even if he refused to acknowledge it until he had no choice but to admit it, that clever fox became so near and dear to Sonic that the thought of something happening to Tails made him sick.
Their fur is rougher and prickler than the juvenile fox fur Sonic is accustomed to. But it is Tails. Sonic recognises the smell of motor oil and metal dusting anywhere. It fills his mouth and nose with electrical aftershocks. He holds back the gentle scolding lying on his tongue. For as often Sonic reminds Tails to wash up - especially after welding projects - Sonic wants a second to appreciate the quiet moment. It feels like so long ago that he could just hold Tails like this. To just exist without Eggman interfering with the peace or their friends pulling towards places and new experiences. He loves them, even if he has trouble admitting it without any stressful factors. But now and again, he misses the old days when it was just the two of them.
Sonic smiles, relaxing against the comforting presence of family. He pushes down the urge to reach over and tuck Tails under his chin, knowing he will fall asleep if he does that. Usually, Sonic is not fond of prolonged physical contact, unlike Tails, who adores it - coming from the right person. But Tails has always been the exception in his life. Sonic would scoop his little buddy into swinging embraces, spinning around until both feet left the ground. Carry them across valleys whenever Tails was too tired to go on and even brave deep and dark waters because Tails wanted to see what was on the other end. If the touch comes from Tails, Sonic can handle it. However, he still would like Tails to ask for permission beforehand.
Sonic is the one who taught Tails to groom themself so they do not have a permanent bedhead, and he taught them to cook after the toddler showed interest in the portable burner long before they settled in Green Hill. Now Sonic knows all too well that Tails was more interested in the things they could create than cooking. But it was an excellent base to start with and teach the fox about lab safety. And it allowed Sonic to breathe a little easier, knowing if they ever got separated, Tails knew the basics of survival. He will never regret taking Tails in, as irresponsible as the decision seems now that he is older. He was not the perfect caregiver, not in a long shot.
Everything seemed more straightforward back then. Yet, Sonic looks at the past with rose-tinted glasses. He wishes for one moment, they were back on the road with nothing to their name but a few heroic deeds and a rattly backpack - braving the wild and seeing where the wind would take them. When Tails was not self-conscious enough to cuddle with their older brother, they happily let Sonic protect them from the mean nightmares keeping the poor kit awake.
But -Sonic sighs. Going back into the past is not possible. Sonic likes where they have settled down, the friends they have made, and their current adventures. It could be better, and if Sonic could change their everyday lives, he would. For starters, Eggman appearing less in their daily lives would be nice. But it is what it is. Sonic would never trade his world for anything else. He likes it the way it is - flaws and all.
Sonic scrunches his nose. He can feel a sense of wrongness prodding at his mind, ever so steadily like a metronome, maddening once he notices its presence.
Tails does not sleep in the same room with him - much less still cuddling with him at bedtime. The young genius has gotten to that age where he thinks cuddles and hugs for longer than five seconds are for little kids—emotionally distancing themself for a sense of privacy. Sonic knows logically that is what it is. Those parenting books and forums had warned him of this. Kids grow up - that is just reality. Of course, Sonic is happy his little buddy is growing up to be such a capable and fantastic person who is as kind as they are brilliant. However, it is only natural he would miss what je took for granted.
That is the crux of the problem. The person holding him cannot Tails.
Maybe Tails got scared and crawled into bed with me? Sonic tries to reason, willing the beating of his erratic heart to calm down. Tails is deathly afraid of thunderstorms, and despite how beautifully pleasant Green Hill's weather can be, storms hit the plains pretty hard. It is not as bad as Mystic Jungle, but still. Tails may insist they are too old to fear simple chemical reactions. However, no logical explanation can stop the fox from jumping at the first clap of thunder. It is a sound explanation, and Sonic settles down, falling back into the hazy unawareness of sleep.
Or so Sonic would like. The feeling of something cold slithering along his back wakes him right up. Sonic's eyes crack open with the speed of sound, whizzing around in panic.
The fox - not Tails - Sonic reminds himself, stuck between sympathy and annoyance, that someone is using his fondness for his baby sibling to lull him into a false sense of security - shuffles closer. Their touch feels like pins and needles, an entirely imagined reaction Sonic knows. Still, the haphephobia settles in, sending Sonic's every sense into hyperdrive.
They are about the same size as Tails, perhaps taller. It is hard to tell in the dark. Sonic has never been bothered by his hedgehog night blindness. But now Sonic wishes he had the special nictitating membrane Mr Ultimate Lifeform once said he possessed. Not that Sonic was paying attention beyond 'my trigger-happy rival has cool glowing eyes'. He would do everything right now to remember Shadow's tangent about the workings of the eyes.
Curse you, short attention span! Sonic swears internally, trying to focus past the pain throbbing in the back of his head.
The cold feeling interrupts Sonic's thoughts, returning him to the issue. It is familiar, somehow. Sonic is no stranger to machinery, with an evil scientist as his arch-nemesis and a master gadgeteer as a best friend. But it does not feel like Eggman's tech tightening around his waist, drawing him closer to the mystery person. It is neither Tails' helpful gadgets, their sharp points pressing dangerously close to Sonic's vulnerable spine. There are multiple limb-like appendages, with sheathes like bamboo stalks rubbing against his spines in all the wrong ways. Alien in their delicateness, like a gentle spider patting a beloved pet. Sans all the hair, New World Spiders harbour. Sonic shudders. He really hopes it is not a robotic spider.
Sonic tenses, quills rising reflexively. But the robotic limbs do not react, gently nestling against his back. The fox in front of him does not suffer from getting impaled, sighing as they take place in Sonic's arms as if they belong there. They tuck in their head and Sonic's chin, scarily well-practised for someone who should not be familiar with embracing a spined mobian. Sonic swallows dryly, disliking the suffocating situation. He can see nothing in front of him. But he can feel the uncomfortable hot breath of the unwanted cuddler on his chest, too close to two sensitive scars.
Sonic bites his teeth. Fox or not, his touch limit has far since been exceeded. He needs personal space ASAP! Sonic wiggles his arm to push off the stranger. Sonic may have shaped a talkative, fun-loving persona for himself compared to his old mute self, who shied away from everything that was not adventure. But he draws the line at being used like a glorified teddy bear.
But Sonic cannot move. His legs refuse to obey him, and his arms shake, straining to move from where they are trapped against his sides. No doubt by the fox's embrace. It is not particularly tight, but Sonic fights to find the strength to move them! His head pounds, hard and fast, as the panic stakes its claim. It solidifies, drilling into the back of his head with a ferocity he has never known. The pain is mind-numbing, and he coughs, catching the shout bursting from his lungs. He does not remember having an injury like that. He certainly would have woken up from the pain if it happened in his sleep.
What happened? Sonic wonders, knowing he did not just fall asleep in his bed in Green Hill. He is in an unknown location, held in a stranger's embrace. Nothing feels right. It's as if the fabric of reality has been rendered into ribbons, and it's running on its last fumes. A ticking time bomb with an ever-changing timer as the final notes of a discordant song.
How oddly poetic. It's not really my jam, though. Sonic muses. However, he supposes being thrust into an existential crisis does that to people. I should join Amy's book club when I get out of here. They would appreciate the purple prose.
Sonic tries to remember what happened again before waking up but finds nothing. It is a futile task, as reflected by his struggle. It is alarming, and if Sonic were not already panicking, he would be now.
He only remembers Green Hill Zone, bathed in twilight and an explosion in the distance. A sharp pain made from a gloved fist, the sound of rings clattering against the grass and the voice of a rival with whom he needs to talk to. Ambushing people and then socking them in the head is not friendly rival behaviour. Or so Sonic would if he was not secretly a teensy bit nervous around Shadow. It is worse when Shadow is not fighting him. Then it gets awkward quickly because, as much as Sonic boasts, he is good with social situations - neither of them is.
Sonic stills. He probably should not be thinking of Shadow right now. That is just asking for the ornery hedgehog to appear out of the blue. He already has enough of a headache without dealing with him - literally! Yet it would be a nice breath of familiarity - as nonsensical as Shadow can be.
Sonic breaks out of his thoughts by a noise. He can feel it rattling his spine, his fur deep down to his bones. It clicks as soon as he finally musters the strength to move his fingers, pressing against the arms of his unwanted companion.
The stranger is purring! Of all the things that Sonic could experience in this unpredictable situation. He knows as the stranger is no doubt sleeping - they have the death grip of a sleeper - that purring is not out of the question. But with the knowledge that a fox is holding him - it makes his head spin with theories. Foxes do not just purr - not like cats! They only purr when they feel absolutely safe and loved. Tails did not purr for years, and even then, only because Sonic had to teach them how to do it without shame, forcing himself to purr a little louder than a regular hedgehog usually does.
It is a clumsy purr, like the starting of a rusty lawnmower - stuttering and breaking apart without a stable rhythm. It makes Sonic twinge, remembering how Tails' purr sounded exactly like that because of disuse. It makes him want to help, to soothe the broken purr with one of his own. But even when he wants to, he cannot bring himself to. He feels unsafe, tittering at the edge of a full-blown panic attack. Purring is the last thing Sonic can do.
But he cannot endure for much longer. His ears press against his head, the sensory overload screeching into his abused senses. It feels like the blaring of an alarm transmitting straight into his eardrums. For a moment, Sonic thinks he imagines it, but as he focuses on the pain, he recognises the sound. A loud army-style alarm clock can raise the dead - but it is an alarm clock nonetheless. The noise vibrates through the room, bouncing off the walls. Richoting all around with no end.
The fox stirs. Sonic slacks a sigh of relief. The sooner the mystery dude awakens, the sooner Sonic can demand them to let go, for he can forgive someone mistaking him for a pillow when unconscious but not when they are awake. They rise, and Sonic looks for those predator eyes that are supposed to shine in the dark. But he finds none. Confused, he stays still, an inherent part of his biology telling him to wait until he knows what is happening. As much as he is an insectivore with a broad diet, ancient hedgehogs were as much prey as predators. And foxes, Sonic does not like to think about it, but Tails' distant ancestors were not vegetarians.
Their movements are sluggish, and they groan, using a hand to rub at their throat. Their voice is familiar, somehow, though it is not Tails as Sonic has already deduced. It nags at him, scrambling the bemused parts of his brain into even more of a confused mush. They let go, and Sonic whoops in silent relief. Little lights come to life inside the room, an entire armada of machines and gadgets, and dozens of electronics Sonic cannot name or place showing themselves. Even without the pressure his body and mind are under - he would not be able to recognise them.
In his awe, the stranger presses a few buttons on their watch that look similar to one of those heart rate watches for runners. Their face is lit by blue light, an unflattering spotlight that only illuminates a small part of their face. But still, Sonic sees only big eyes and yellow fur. It is far from enough light. The lights come alive, and Sonic blinks, taking everything in. The light is dim, and he welcomes it for once. Any light harsher than this would make him throw up. But it is enough to familiarise himself with his surroundings.
A tight grip around his chest brings Sonic back to the most critical topic. Despite turning on the lights, the stranger went back to sleep, pressing closer into Sonic's neck to block out the light. It is endearing if not for the foul mood Sonic is in. He sighs. But first things first, getting this stranger off of me. Sonic finally looks down as he prepares to put every ounce of effort into dislodging himself from this fox. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakery, Mx Fox, but I don't appreciate being cuddled to death-
He freezes.
Tails?! Is what he thinks, too stunned to speak. Because, as he ruled out - it cannot be Tails. And yet, blonde fur meets his eyes and two furry tails. Two large ears and, from what little he can see with their head stuck under his chin - a white muzzle. His mind scrambles to right itself - seeing a million things at once, fracturing and splittering as his vision swims. He sees his little buddy smiling. Then, a wild version of Tails with red painted streaks and a vicious bite. His vision rights itself, drawing greys, saturated browns, and yellows into compact shapes. Showing the person before him rather than the people haunting his memories.
It hits him like a vicious punch of a badnik. Sonic ignores the fractures, relieved yet befuddled. He is glad it is Nine and not some weirdo hugging him in their sleep, but he still does not know what happened. What disorientation does to a man, sheesh. Sonic shakes his head, wincing. Oh, boy. My head hurts. He probably should not have done that.
Sonic needs to wake Nine up. But, as much as he wants to get up and stretch - and figure out why he feels so sore and in pain - his brain tells him not to wake up the kid because any version of Tails sleeping is the cutest—even a grumpy and pessimistic incarnation of his baby sibling.
No! I've got to stop thinking like an older brother. Think, Sonic, think! Sonic slaps his head and shouts in pain. Chaos, he really needs to stop having habits that hurt him. Sonic perks up. He freed his arm! That is a good outcome. He bobs his head carefully, having learned his lesson after the first two times.
Sonic glances down at Nine, grimacing as he steels himself to wake them up. He opens his mouth, trying to find the right words between soft and authoritative to get the fox to let go of him. It would not be a problem if Nine were Tails. Tails is too light of a sleeper to have this happen to them, and second, he is familiar with Tails and knows how to act. With Nine, though, as alike as they are to Tails - they differ so much that Nine seems more like a different person each time Sonic interacts with them. Sonic did not raise Nine. He has yet to learn how to address the little things that feel like second nature with Tails.
"Um, uh Nh-" But Sonic grows speechless again as Nine suddenly kneads into his chest. The fox actually thinks Sonic is a pillow in their sleep. If this was Tails, Sonic would laugh, scaring the poor inventor awake. Instead, he is overfilled with brotherly fondness at the moody fox acting so soft.
They are kneading! Tails has not done that since they were a toddler! I can't wake them up. Sonic bites down harder on his teeth. No, focus!
Nine's purr grows louder, finding its rhythm and sticking to it with only a few cracks in between. It is adorable.
And the purr! Oh, Nine, you're going to be the death of me, bud—cuteness overload. Sonic sighs. He wishes he could just wake Nine up in the same mischievous way he would if they were Tails. But Nine is not Tails, as they have repeatedly proven Sonic. Mangy was the final nail in the coffin. He cannot act like Nine is Tails as he has no idea how Nine will react to being abruptly awoken. Sonic knows for himself that he is a fitful sleeper. Tails told him many times how jumpy he is when rudely awakened to the point that Tails is at arm's length when the kit tries to wake him up. Nine, with their rough past, might be the same as him. This is not good for Sonic, as he is way too close not to be in the range of an accidental punch.
I'm lucky Nine decided not to sit on my head in their sleep. Now, that would have been a rude awakening. He muses nervously. Tails had cut themself too many times on Sonic's head quills because the kit could not control their instincts when they were younger. The action is heartwarming, but less so is pulling blue spines from a crying toddler's butt because Tails did not understand that they should not sit on a hedgehog's head. It was hard to explain, especially because Sonic did not know why Tails did it. Now that he does, he cannot help but be endearingly amused. Even at that young, Tails had seen Sonic as family.
Sonic taps his finger against the mattress, surveying the room as he thinks of the best way to approach this situation. He cannot feel the texture with his gloves. But he can tell that it is lumpy and riddled with holes. So is the pillow under his head. He dares not to think if the holes are from his quills or something else. But the tiny bit of leftover annoyance melts away at the kind gesture. No wonder Nine is using him as a pillow when the fox gave him probably the only cushion they own.
Poor fella. Sonic wishes he could do more, but he is getting anxious, lying down with his limbs stationary. He needs to stretch. Sorry, Nine, as much as I care for your beauty sleep, which you seriously need. No offence, bud, but you look disastrous - I need to move! Sonic thinks but does not say, trapped within an old habit. Getting out of it is like swimming through molasses. Syllables feel foreign on his tongue, words a clumsy dance he has not practised in what feels like years. An unthinkable thing to imagine with how many people have told Sonic, including one cranky rival, that he talks too much.
Jokes on them because I will never stop. Sonic smacks his dry lips, and finally, after what feels like hours but is probably only five minutes, he can get a sound out that sounds like actual English.
"Hey, Nine, buddy. Please wake up. I need to get up. I will die if I do not… uh, right! Stretch! That's not a difficult word to say, and yet. Language is hard!" Sonic pinches his nose. Bleh! As much as he sang his own praises about his fantastic commentary, this is one of those few days talking feels a chore. But Nine is not as light as a sleeper Tails is. Their ears twitch, but otherwise, they do not react. Sonic groans, dragging a hand over his eyes. The one time he wishes a version of his genius sibling to sleep in, and it at the most inopportune moment. That is just his luck.
But Sonic wiggles, raising an eye ridge. Nine's death grip has loosened. It is easier to dislodge them from his person. For more his sake than Nine's, Sonic manoeuvres Nine to lay on his spot, letting the fox keep sleeping. They are unhappy, batting their claws to get him back to sleep. But still, Nine does not awaken. They curl up in the warm spot Sonic left behind, tucking their tails under their legs and their hands over their muzzle.
It is a cute sight, and Sonic would be cooing over how adorable it is. If only Nine's mechanical limbs did not encircle the genius inventor like a trippy mandala. It reminds him of all too well of his situation. He cannot sit around - he must rescue his friends and get everything back as it was. He has no time to lose.
Sonic creeps out of the room down the weird tarp-like tunnel that connects to Nine's bedroom. Or he thinks it is Nine's bedroom. He would hardly call it that. For one thing, it looks too much like an abandoned military storage unit. One where their equipment has been sitting there for too long. It cannot possibly be healthy. But Sonic is not Nine's brother. He has no right asking Nine to clean up and keep their work and sleep space separate. Knowing how messed up New Yolk is, there probably is not enough space to separate the two, regardless of how unhealthy it is to sleep near machinery.
Sonic would love to zip out of here to the next destination. But he is still lethargic. Nothing a few stretches won't fix! He thinks optimistically, shaking off the unease bubbling underneath his pelt. It is going to be okay. He reasons. If only his subconsciousness would get the memo.
The next room is just as dark as the tunnel, and it takes Sonic an embarrassingly long time to fumble around to find a light switch. When he flicks on, he gapes. The room is a stainless kitchen, high-tech retro and seemingly never used, with steel pots and pans hanging off the walls. It looks straight out of one of the culinary shows Tails used to watch when there was nothing else good on cable, and streaming was not a big thing yet.
It takes him back to when he walked into their then-new house in Green Hill Zone and looked upon the home he built with his friends. With so much space, he and his little buddy could not get claustrophobic again, and perfect for the parties they never ended up throwing, preferring when they party, to go outside or, better yet, to another place. Neither Sonic nor Tails enjoy social interaction that much, unlike what Sonic lets people believe. BBQs are perfect, though, and he does love a good chilli dog straight off a grill. Garden parties are the best of both worlds.
Sonic shakes his head. He is getting distracted. Sonic winces at the headache as he inches forward, sweeping his hand over the counter in awe. No speck of dust stays on his glove. It is miraculous, as if the room is cleaned every day. Sonic reaches behind him, checking the cupboards and drawers. The kitchen seems unused for the most part. But the plates and cups look old. Even with a high-tech dishwasher, getting them looking like they are straight out of the package is impossible. Sonic would know. Tals tinkered a lot with the dishwasher until they found the right solution. They also miss that plastic smell from the packaging.
Sonic stands back upright, swaying as a dizzy spell overcomes him. His stomach rumbles, and sheepishly, he remembers he barely ate last night. Or whenever his last memory was. Sonic does not want to think about it too deeply. He goes for the fridge, promising to write Nine a note before he leaves to apologise for taking some of their food. His fingers tighten around the handle when he hears a loud crash.
Sonic's ear swivels towards the hallway whence he came. The sound is familiar. Sonic has heard Tails' experiments go awry more than he can count. But his quills raise in apprehension regardless. The following silence feels foreboding, echoing through this strange cement room. Sonic strains his ear, hearing the sound of rummaging, growing frenzied with each passing second. If Sonic did not know better, he would think Nine is panicking. The footsteps near the kitchen are loud and hurried. A familiar, unfamiliar fox storms into the room, blue eyes darting around frantically. Until they land on Sonic.
Sonic feels like a deer caught in the headlights. He does not know why. He has never felt threatened with Nine or, Chaos forbid, Tails. But something about Nine's burning stare is unsettling. Sonic cannot describe it. In one word, it is blank, but their whole body language screams a predator animal. As if Sonic is an intruder and Nine reverted back to their ancestor's ways of defending their den. However, if that were the case, they would not easily relax upon seeing him. If Nine were genuinely lost in the sauce, they would have a more challenging time getting out of the wild mindset.
Nine levels Sonic with a look as if he is the weirdo who freaked out over seemingly nothing.
"What are you doing?" Nine asks, with little inflexion in their voice. Yet, it holds an authoritative edge. Sonic is unused to hearing. It rubs him the wrong way.
"Making breakfast, little buddy. What else?" Sonic shrugs. He opens the fridge, pulling out random ingredients and hoping they are the right ones. He does not know why he says that. It comes out in reflex as if he has been living together with Nine for years instead of Tails. Sonic expects Nine to glare and remind him that they are not Tails. They always get annoyed when he compares or treats them younger than they are, not without good reason. But Sonic cannot shake the big brother mentality around them. Any incarnation of Tails is his family.
But Nine sighs, waving their hand nonchalantly. The reaction stuns Sonic. He nearly drops the food. He looks at the bounty in his arms, the meatloaf. He cringes. Who the hell eats meatloaf? He snifs it. Ew! Olives.
"Of course, breakfast. What else would you be doing?" Nine laughs dryly. They step towards the kitchen table, so retro-chic it reminds Sonic of 50's dinner tables and Nine sits down with a leg folded on top of the other. Their mechanical tails swish languidly behind them. As they are in an ocean and their tails float like tendrils behind them, "Don't let me stop you."
Their words are light, playful even. But their body language is anything but. Rigid and sharp, like a robot. Every move is calculated and shows through the coldness in Nine's gaze. They were waiting for Sonic to do what he said. As if this is some sort of test Sonic must pass.
Sonic swallows dryly, his grin straining on his muzzle.
"Of course! Just you wait! I know how to make some banger pancakes!" He says, dumping the meatloaf on the counter. He cannot make pancakes with a loaf made of meat. However, Nine does not comment on that, returning a toothy smirk. It does not look friendly.
"I can't wait."
Sonic chuckles, not willing to admit how freaked out he is. He chalks it to Nine, not having been around people enough to know what a friendly smile looks like. Sonic would be a fool not to remember how hard it was for Tails and him to learn to emote so people would understand them better. Smile when happy, frown when sad, those kinds of things. Though Tails still has the habit of laughing hysterically when something horrible happens, Sonic is not much better, becoming apathetic or too jokey when stressed. It is how he copes!
He starts on the pancake batter, shamefully putting the meatlove back and pulling out the correct ones. They are technically not the right ones, aside from the all-purpose flour and eggs. But they will have to do. There is no baking powder, which Sonic suspects Nine does own but does not keep in their kitchen. The milk is in a nondescript jug but it smells like dairy, so Sonic does not ask if it is milk. As for sugar, well, what he finds is not sugar, but it tastes sweet, so he adds it to the mixing bowl regardless.
All throughout mixing, he feels Nine's eyes on him. They never stray, boring holes into his blue quills. Sonic does not look, acting as if this situation is the most normal thing in the world. It isn't.
What situation did I land in? Sonic wonders. It feels so surreal. Throughout baking and laying the pancakes on two different platters, he is tempted to ask Nine what happened. If there is anyone who knows, it is the doppelganger of his genius best friend.
In what feels like a shorter time than it is, Sonic places the plates on the table, giving them an impressive spin before sliding one of them over to Nine. They catch it, surprisingly. Sonic expected it to fly off the table, having given it a little too much juice. He does not remember Nine being able to predict his movements so well.
"Et, Viola! Des crêpes à la Sonic! Bon appétit!" Sonic cheerfully announces. Hoping his fake joy covers up that cold alien feeling gnawing on his fingers. He curls his digits into his palm, pressing crescent shapes into his flesh to chase it away.
He sits down without looking at Nine's reaction, bent over the food as he shovels the pancakes into his mouth. He feels like a man starving! Without the toppings and vanilla sugar, the taste and texture of the pancakes are less appetising. Sonic never considered himself a good chef, and clearly, he retained his mediocre touch from the subpar pancakes he baked. They are flat, resembling crepes more than the fluffy pancakes he usually makes. He solely tastes butter in his bites.
What I would not do for some maple syrup or brown sugar right now. Sonic bemoans internally. But food is food. He does not like asking if Nine has things to put on pancakes. Something tells him that fun breakfast items are off the menu when one lives in a city like New York.
He looks over as he finishes his last pancake, holding in a disgusting burp Tails would be horrified at. If Nine were Tails, he would not bother holding it in. Siblings disgust each other. That is just regular sibling business. Someone had to embarrass Tails, and who is Sonic to deny them noogies and farty armpits?
But Nine is not Tails. Sonic does not know how many times he needs to remind himself that. But he does not need to now. The sight before him tells him all. Nine is not focusing on him but on their food. They have not touched it, poking at it with a spork attached to their multitool. They seem… displeased. Not disgusted necessarily, but wary. As if Sonic would put poison into the food even though they watched the process every step.
"Something wrong?" Sonic asks. Nine nearly jump to the ceiling, their two real tails frizzing behind them. Their spider legs straighten, and if it were not for their herculean grip on the floor, Nine would have launched towards the ceiling. Instead, they hang from their butt on their limb enhancers' tippy toes.
It is strangely intimidating, Sonic realises. He never considered it as such, even when Nine tried to kill him with their tails. But getting stabbed by one of those looks fatal.
Nine comes down. They grimace.
"No, of course, there isn't. Why would there be something wrong?" They answer whisper-like. So perfectly emotionless, as if they have practised the sentence so many times. Nine probably has practised those words if they had any concerned adults in their life. Sonic knows that is precisely the 'leave me alone, everything is fine' voice. Sonic had the same tone before legally adopting Tails in his preteen years. The Mobian authorities have not made a nuisance of themselves since. Although Sonic dreads the day, he must update his homeschooling permit so Tails can stay home and not be forced to attend public schooling. Truthfully he thinks the socialising would be good for Talis. Although Tails is way too convincing to let them stay home and keep working on their projects, saving the day and teaching themselves at the university level much better than any public school teacher could. If Sonic had to be honest, he would also not want to go to school either if he was forced to by law. Especially after getting his GED at sixteen - all thanks to Tails and Amy helping him study. School from what little he knows about it, is a hellscape for the teen mind.
"No? I was just wondering if you don't like them. I won't be offended if you don't! They're just pancakes." Sonic laughs to lighten the mood, carefully watching Nine. Tails used to hate letting food go to waste. They both do. But when Sonic and Tails finally owned a house, they had to learn that sometimes, the food they made was inedible, and they needed to throw it out. But Tails will always feel guilty, and Sonic had to learn to formulate his words to make it clear that it is okay not to like a particular taste or texture. Sonic would hate it if Nine thought they had to eat the pancakes if they could not stand it.
Nine raises a brow, glancing back at the pancakes. There are definitely better examples of what pancakes are supposed to look like. But there is nothing Sonic can do about that now.
"Hmm, just pancakes." Nine murmurs. It is impossible to read the fox. Sonic feels helpless as he tries to find something familiar in their gaze, growing angsty when the silence drones on.
"Here, I'll eat them if you won't. Can't let food go to waste, ya know?" Sonic blurts out, not able to take the quietness. He would love to sit in a meadow with Tails as they solder a project. But this silence is grating. He does not know why, but it makes every nerve in his body feel like it's on fire.
Sonic reaches for the plate, slowly stretching his arm over the table to ensure he does not come over as threatening. One learns with foxes that they become aggressive even if they are not hungry when you take food away from them too suddenly. Add a traumatised fox who went malnourished as a young kit, and you have a very bitey Mobian.
"On second thought. I'll eat them." Nine's half-lidded eyes shoot open, and one of their robotic tails snatches the plate from the table, holding it high above their head. They do not hiss, but the angry look tells Sonic it is a close call. Sonic nods, happy even if pancakes are not exactly very nutritious. It is better than nothing, and with Talis' habit of forgetting to eat, this is good enough for Sonic.
"Atta Nine!" Sonic praises, giving Nine a thumbs up. Nine rolls their eyes, grabbing a tiny piece and putting it in their mouth. They do not react to the taste. Sonic thought since sweet stuff is so rare, there was only a little of it in the cupboard, that Nine would be surprised at the taste. But they just keep chewing, as if eating sand, which Sonic has seen Tails do in the name of 'science'. It looks suspiciously a lot like Tails chewing through a mouthful of mints.
Sonic sits back down with a 'huh'. Nine has a good poker face. They are a mystery wrapped in familiar packaging. It sends a pang of sadness through his heart. He misses Tails.
Sonic gulps, realising his mistake. Tails does not have any severe allergies, but their skin breaks out in hives if they eat chocolate or hazelnuts. It is nothing life-threatening, just annoying for them. But Nine could be allergic to Sonic's pancakes.
"Wait, you're not allergic to anything in these, right? I forgot to ask, Tai-" Sonic tries to ask. But Nine quickly interrupts him.
"I'm fine. I would have said something if I had been allergic to anything you put in these 'pancakes'." They nearly growl. If Sonic did not know better, he would say Nine despises hearing Tails's name. But that would not make sense. Sure, Nine is annoyed when he accidentally mistakes them for Tails. But they have never gotten angry at him mentioning Tails. It must be because they think he is underestimating them. Yes, that would explain how they hold their spork in a death grip or the clench in their jaw.
It sounds like they want to add, you dolt, to the mix but refrained from doing so. Nine sits back down and eats in silence. Their eyes trained stubbornly on their food, drowning the room back into silence.
Sonic looks at the pancakes and back at Nine, coming up with his own conclusion. Nine is simply cautious, and can he blame them? Nine must have been staring because they were unused to having someone else cook for them. Sonic also did not trust what people put in their food when Tails were alone on the road. Only when he saw them put the food together and someone else eating it first did he eat what they served. Tails was never that apprehensive with him, though. But with others, they were always so vigilant. Too often, they had been tricked into eating trash, and with their mild germaphobia, the thought of eating food prepared by unclean hands makes Tails throw up. Ironically, they used to eat food off the ground as a toddler and even ants and other bugs. Sonic supposes learning about the world and its many harmful diseases and bacteria scared Tails out of the habit.
Now that Sonic has the time to look, he studies Nine's appearance - truly seeing the differences between his sibling and this sombre version of them. Nine's canines are sharper. The black at the tips of their ears are more pronounced, not helping the permanent sullen look the youth sports. Their fur is scruffy, too, though that might just be their lack of personal grooming. Yet, their eyebags have seemingly vanished. Sonic remembers them being so dark he mistook them for makeup the first time they met. He is glad Nine has been getting better sleep.
If Sonic had to guess - he would say Nine is a little older than Tails - even if Nine acts more mature than a fourteen-year-old. Nonetheless, it cannot be more than a year or two, for Mangy seems younger with sharp baby teeth and lighter cub fur. He would know! He may not be a fox specialist, but he practically raised Tails. If experience landed one a degree, Sonic would be a fox expert.
The silence drones on. Nine is a much slower eater than Tails, who is not as wild as their brother but still shoves food in their maw because they want to leave the dinner table faster to return to their inventions. It forces Sonic's mind to go back to a very important question. What happened? How did he get here, and where is he here? The question burns on the tip of Sonic's tongue. But whenever he opens his mouth to ask, he gets tongue-tied. He does not know why. He has never felt so anxious before, least of all around Tails. Sure, Nine is not Tails. But even a dimensional counterpart should not make his spines stand up.
I'm likely agitated because I'm feeling so lethargic. No sweat! I will ask them later. Sonic decides, scratching his elbow. A nervous habit he can feel Nine narrowing their eyes at.
We're probably hiding out somewhere and will get on the road sooner or later. He tries to placate himself. Yeah, that makes sense.
Waiting for Nine to finish their breakfast feels like torture. So when Nine finally does, Sonic puts the plates in the sink for a rinse. It feels like clockwork to him, and with his knack for cleaning his and Tails's house when stressed, he is not surprised the habit still prevails even throughout all that he has gone through.
"So, Nine, what's on the schedule?" Sonic asks, drying his hands and putting his gloves back on. He turns towards Nine and demonstratively punches the air, ready for some action. His gestures may be enough to convey his message.
Nine shrugs, their low energy spelling doom in big, bold letters. Sonic ignores it because Nine is probably always this sullen. There is nothing like a dash of Sonic to put the pedal to the metal.
"Just maintenance. The Grim's development is steady, but a volatile energy source and a leaky pipe could blow everything up. I need to recheck everything before adding new features," Nine waves their hand, unconcerned for the bombshell they drop on Sonic, "You know. The usual."
"Right, the usual." Sonic waits momentarily for Nine to tell him they are joking. But they do not do so. They are dead serious.
Sonic clears his throat. He supposes he was not being clear enough.
"Well, I mean. When are we going out there?"
"Out where?" Nine asks casually as their spidery tails tick against the floor tiling. Their eyes are not even on Sonic, focused on the grain of the table as they stroke their fingers against it - following the path the plastic makes. As if deconstructing how the retro table was created. If Sonic did not know better, he would think Nine was playing with him. But it is Nine, a humourless version of Tails, who would stab him first if he punched their arm in a friendly fashion.
Heh, Nine kinda reminds me of a Knux a little. But even Knux had a hint of mischief when I first met him. Sonic muses sadly. His heart pangs at the reminder of his dear friends. Who knows what will happen if he does not get to them soon?
"You know - out there! We can't sit in this place all day! We need some fresh air and stretch our legs. Nine, you don't understand. My legs are already atrophying." Sonic whines, slouching against the counter with a grin, hoping to lighten the mood. But Nine just glances at his legs - seriously considering this fact.
"I doubt it. It takes more time for that to happen."
Sonic deflates. Leave it to Mx Gloom to not understand a joke. Though Sonic recognises it is not like Nine had the privilege to learn and understand jokes. And even then, it is not Nine's fault that they do not understand Sonic's humour.
Sonic shrugs.
"And much better, to stop those egghead-!" Sonic stops himself from finishing his sentence. Nine is entirely still, looking at him from the corner of their eyes. Their entire attention is on him even if, at first glance, it did not appear that way. It is odd. Every version of Tails Sonic has met had to be doing something, like fidgeting, stimming or usually tinkering with some gadget or new project, even if they are talking or watching TV. Tails remains completely still when they have something on their mind or are furious.
Nine is not angry. Sonic is sure. He has seen them agitated, and though Sonic admits he has been lacking in the awareness department lately, he cringes as he remembers trying to placate Tails with comic books. Nine is not angry. Sonic did not notice it until now, but Nine's metal tails drum to a measured rhythm. Tick, tick, tick - never straying or fraying the notes.
Sonic feels apprehensiveness beating down on him, returning when he thought it had finally left.
"There is more to see to, uh, the Grim?" Sonic tries instead. When he is outside, he can broach the subject more easily. Get Nine motivated to take a test ride in their swanky spaceship and gently nudge them into saving everyone and everything. Baby steps, Sonic, baby steps. Sonic thinks encouragingly.
Nine mulls over it, turning to face Sonic in the swivel chair. As Sonic thought, their eyes never strained - staying still as their body rotated to look at him thoroughly. It is eerie. Sonic chalks it up to paranoia. Unlike Tails, who felt comfort in burrows, he never liked being in small enclosed spaces.
I guess that makes me a lousy hedgehog. Sonc jokes internally, feeling a little sad that he cannot joke out loud without Nine's judgemental stare. I got that runner's anxiety.
"Sure, there are some emerald structures I'm interested in studying. They could be passive power sources. I can make them active power sources if I study them enough. They would make for some nice lamps if they turn out to be useless." Nine chuckles dryly, "Everything has its uses."
"No, I mean…" Sonic trails off. He sighs. Nine's body language is all locked up. There is no place for Sonic to worm in his charm and get Nine to save the day with him. Maybe he can lead them into it, but a direct approach will not work.
For a moment, Sonic considers cutting his losses and going up the surface and back to New Yolk alone. Yet he is still tired. It is strange. His body should have completely woken up already, and even on days he is lethargic, he feels the need to run it off. Today must be an off day. This strange universe can wait a day. I will try again tomorrow. Taking it easy will replenish my energy. I just know it. Sonic concludes.
"Sure, Nine. I be happy to study them together." Sonic says with a gentle smile. This is an excellent opportunity to understand Nine better. He is sure under that cold, sombre exterior of theirs lays a kind and wonderful soul. Nine just needs someone they can trust to open up to. Sonic did that for Tails, which allowed them to make many friends with whom they could be vulnerable. Sonic can do the same thing for Nine.
Nine raises a brow, suspicious. But they respond before Sonic can retract the offer, hopping off their chair.
"Terrific! Once I'm done with maintenance, we can leave the bunker and explore the wasteland above us. A trip sounds nice." Nine return Sonic's smile, flashing their teeth. Sonic gives them a thumbs up even if he feels all his spines standing on end. That smile looks uninviting.
"Come on! I have to show you the rest of the bunker. You're gonna love what I did with the place." Nine motions for Sonic to follow them. Their smile slims, turning into something more neutral and, dare Sonic say, eager? Sonic blinks, rubbing his eyes. But it is still there when he reopens them—a genuine smile. Sonic is amazed. He laughs.
"What are you doing?" Nine asks, their face morphing into a comical expression of disgust and confusion. Sonic shrugs.
"It's nothing, buddy. I just had something in my eye," He says, happy to see that a piece of Tails resides in this wonky version of them. Nine might not be Tails, but Sonic saw a glimmer of them in Nine for a moment. They are just as passionate about their work as his sibling is. "You're amazing, you know that?"
Nine halts at the doorway. They look shocked, their eyes wide as their jaw hits the floor. It is the most surprising Sonic has seen Nine, and the dude is pretty unflappable. They blink, and the moment the words sink in, Nine's face flushes. Nine hides their face behind their hands as their red ears press against their skull - embarrassed. Nine hisses into their gloves as Sonic roars with laughter. They glare at him between the gaps in their fingers. It just makes the hedgehog laugh harder.
"Whatever," Nine says, turning around and stepping into the darkness. They look back, "Are you coming or not?"
Sonic picks himself up from the ground, not realising he almost busted his gut laughing. He wipes away a tear, nodding.
"Yeah!"
Aw! That was the baby's first compliment. I wish I had a phone or a camera. Sonic muses. Wait, first compliment? That's actually sad. I will compliment them if it's the last thing I do. Sonic decides determinedly as he nears Nine. He looks them up and down. Nine might look orthodox, and the robotic tails can be slightly off-putting. But they are a child and, more importantly, someone like Tails. They just need more positive reinforcement, and Nine will blossom into a kindhearted individual. Sonic is sure of it.
I already raised Tails once. What is taking up the mentor role one more time? Just for a little while. Sonic thinks, his thoughts drifting towards Tails.
Wait for me, bud. I will be back soon.
He turns to Nine, turning up the brightness of his smile, burying the pain deep down.
"Yeah. Show me the biz, Nine." Sonic snaps his fingers, winking. Nine snorts, the corner of their lip twitching into a smile.
"Not a problem... Sonic." Nine says slowly as if testing Sonic's name. It is not the first time they have said it, but their tone is soft. It is not that different from their monotone voice, but Sonic notices it. He has spent enough time with Nine to finally catch the infliction, as small as it is.
Sonic's grin widens.
"Lead the way, Doc Ock!" Sonic cheerfully yells, ignoring how his voice bounces off the walls of the dark bunker or the chill running up his spine. Nine opens their mouth to ask what Sonic means but gives up, shaking their head. They walk ahead, rolling their wrist nonchalantly.
"Right this way." Nine may sound disinterested, but the way their tails swish languidly behind them gives Sonic glee, as does the way Nine puffs their chest proudly. That compliment must have affected them more than Sonic thought. He follows right after, feeling better than when he woke up. He is sure that together, they can save everyone.
"Hell yeah. Let's get this show on the road!"